Always Again
by DustyGills
Summary: Daryl's conflicting emotions over Glenn come to a physical head when Glenn tries to reconcile with him over a recent experience they shared.


**Always Again**

A sequel to _Just This Once_

**Warning:** Infidelity (which I don't condone unless it is of the hot, slashy fic variety), some very slight actions of violence, for the most part a PWP :)

**Pairing: **Glenn/Daryl, Glenn/Maggie.

* * *

As Daryl sauntered across the field to give the perimeter of the fence a once-over he swore he could feel Glenn watching him from the guard tower. Even though he _knew _it was the sun burning against his back, it may as well have been Glenn's eyes appraising him.

Indeed, when Daryl gave in and peeked over his shoulder, Glenn seemed to be looking at him. It was impossible to tell from such a distance, but he felt it deep in his gut. Daryl turned away abruptly, angry with himself. Jaw clenched tight, he continued patrolling the fence, gazing into the empty eyes of the walkers on the other side. All were hungry for his flesh and writhing grotesquely less than a foot away from him, but he wasn't afraid. Their attempts to get at him through the chain links was almost comical actually. _Would _have been comical before what happened to T-Dog and Lori.

To alleviate some of his mounting frustration Daryl drew an arrow arbitrarily from his sheath, picked the ugliest walker and slid the arrow smoothly into the eye of the pathetic fucker. The male walker he'd chosen –its wasted jowls drooped practically to its wasted neck– continued to gnaw fiercely at the fence until the arrowhead slid home; deep into its brain. When Daryl yanked the arrow out, now covered in grayish brain-muck, the walker slithered to the ground almost gracefully, sprawling on its back. Killing it hadn't made him feel any better.

Daryl continued walking, feeling guilty as hell about the resentment he now felt towards not only Glenn, but Maggie as well. Especially as she was obviously battling depression over whatever the fucking Governor had done to her. He had no right to feel possessive over someone he'd never had. He _knew_ that, but it didn't change anything other than his outside demeanor towards her. It certainly didn't change how he felt. Not that he knew precisely how he felt…

Luckily he had a brilliant poker face and if he was bit surlier than usual no one seemed to find it odd. Glenn, on the other hand, had been acting like a total spazz - stuttering and avoiding Daryl's eyes when they were forced to be in each others' presence.

The only person who seemed to notice anything amiss was goddamn Michonne, which was unsettling as she hardly knew either of them. Daryl was glad Rick had taken her along today… and Carl too. The both of them were too much trouble by far.

On his way back to the the prison he passed Carol leaving it. She had the semi-irate look of one who'd just been conversing with Merle. In spite of how hard Daryl was working to get his brother accepted within the group, he tended to avoid him more often than not himself.

"Where ya headed?" he asked with feigned heartiness.

"Shift change," she said simply, pausing in her brisk strides to give him that special tiny smile. The kind that she seemed to keep in reserve specially for him. Less than a week before he might've thought: _hell yeah_. But Glenn had ruined that too. Now that smile only succeeded in making him nervous. Combined with her words in that moment, it ignited a flare of panic in Daryl's chest and he began walking faster.

He'd only just made it back to the grim buildings when he detected hurried footsteps behind him and panted breaths. "Daryl, wait!"

Glenn's voice made his blood boil with indignation "Fuck off," he shouted over his shoulder, walking faster and refusing to look back. He'd promised himself he would keep his calm if something like this happened, and he was already failing.

"I said _wait_!" Glenn sped up and caught his elbow.

Daryl wrenched away from his grasp as though it stung and spun around on his heel feeling like a rabid dog. "What. Do. You _Want_?" he spat viciously, launching himself forward into Glenn's personal bubble without preamble. Glenn jerked back minutely, but held his ground like he'd been expecting it. They were practically nose-to-nose, heat like a blazing fire trapped between them.

Glenn's face was shiny with sweat and locks of dark hair were plastered to his forehead. His eyes were wide with fear, but determined. Maybe he wanted Daryl to hit him. "I've been wanting-" he licked his lips nervously "-to talk with you," he finished anticlimactically, in a voice of very forced calm.

Daryl didn't respond, eyes narrowing.

"I just think we should talk this through," Glenn said feebly, seemingly put off by Daryl's lack of reaction.

"'Talk what through, exactly?" Daryl snarled finally, playing as dumb as people usually took him to be.

Glenn's brows bunched in confusion. "About what happened between us," he muttered glancing around furtively. Daryl hated him even more for that. It wasn't like somebody had bugged the goddamn walls around here. "With the Governor-" overt hatred in every syllable "–out to kill us, I figure we should attempt to put what happened between us... behind us." It sounded uncomfortably rehearsed and Glenn looked like he was fighting not to squirm under the directness of Daryl's gaze.

Daryl laughed nastily right in his face without an iota of true humor. "Like I said, I don't know what yer talkin' 'bout." He shook his head disgustedly and turned away once more, but Glenn's hand shot out and caught his arm again, callused fingers gripping harshly.

"Please, just _listen _to me!"

Daryl's mouth fell open at Glenn's audacity but he didn't pull away this time. Instead his hands curled into fists and he genuinely wanted to strike something. He fixed a hard glare upon Glenn's face, anger crescendoing into a scary, heady thing. Glenn saw the growing rage there and released his grip, stepping back and holding up his hands defensively.

Regarding Glenn's frightened expression, Daryl saw that it was contradicted by a spark of fight in his eyes (he wasn't going to take Daryl's potential punches like an inanimate puppet). For whatever reason, it was _that _that caused his resolve to weaken until it crumbled irrevocably, in a matter of seconds. The strap of his crossbow slid off his shoulder and he let the weapon fall to the ground with a clatter.

Daryl didn't allow himself time to ponder his options, or give Glenn a chance to vocalize further inane improbabilities concerning the future of their platonic relationship. He simply acted.

He lunged forward and grasped Glenn by the front of his shirt. The dark fabric bunched in Daryl's hands and the seams protested as he yanked Glenn towards himself until they were chest-to-chest, pissoffedness lending strength to his actions. He released the cloth and wrapped a hand around the nape of Glenn's neck, tugging him into a harsh kiss. A small, gnarled place in his heart loved the look utter shock on Glenn's face in the second before their mouths met.

Daryl didn't let him lead this time, insecurities temporarily driven away by the position Glenn had put him in. He pried Glenn's mouth open with his own (teeth digging into his lower lip at one point) and slid his tongue inside that hot, wet cavity with little initial finesse. Glenn, didn't attempt to extricate himself from the situation, just as Daryl had figured he wouldn't; he merely linked his hands behind Daryl's lower back and held him close. The whole _chasing Daryl down to talk_ shit must have been false bravado.

Daryl kissed him bruisingly, wanting Glenn to _do_ something violent in return. Try to hurt him in some way. He didn't fight Daryl's increasing ferocity, however, just accepted it after a moment of uncertainty. He kissed Daryl back and allowed him to run exploratory hands over his body; roughly massaging shoulders and back, briefly grabbing Glenn's ass through his jeans then skating away. He subtly began helping Daryl develop a sensual dueling rhythm with every meeting of their lips and tongues. _Playing_ at letting Daryl feel like he was the one in charge.

That merely succeeded in pissing Daryl off even more and he shoved Glenn away forcefully. Glenn looked, if possible, even more startled; swollen, bruised mouth matching his face. A shiver of apprehension ran down Daryl's spine and he knew he couldn't look him in the face any longer. He grabbed Glenn's arm and flipped him around, gripping him firmly by the hips and maneuvering him so his hands were braced against the nearest faded brick wall.

Glenn's back arched enticingly that way, and Daryl shuffled forward until his crotch was pressed firmly to Glenn's ass. Glenn probably assumed incorrectly that Daryl had been arrested and had this done to him (minus the ass to crotch bit) several times before. Or maybe he assumed that Daryl was into some kind of domineering porn. Either way, it felt appropriate to do so. Like maybe Glenn deserved it for being such a sl...

The unfinished thought pulled Daryl up short and he almost ended it right that moment and stalked off. But his dick and balls were heavy; he was absolutely throbbing with arousal. He wanted it too badly to simply toss up his hands and walk away.

With shaking hands Daryl unbuttoned and unzipped Glenn's jeans, pressing his mouth to the back of his neck and kissing it thoughtlessly; Glenn's skin tasted of salt. Daryl shoved pants and underwear unceremoniously down around Glenn's thighs, revealing pale, sun-deprived skin, before undoing his own jeans. The clink of Daryl's belt caused Glenn to go absolutely rigid, spine tensing so extremely that Daryl thought it might snap.

"Shhh," Daryl breathed, stroking a soothing hand up Glenn's spine notch by notch, kneading his shoulders to ease the tension. Daryl loosened his pants just enough to pull his cock free and stroked himself slowly, deliriously heady with the possibilities. He could fuck Glenn right then if he wanted. He'd probably let Daryl do that.

His perception had developed a surreal tinge; euphoria that bordered upon hysteria, and Daryl's head spun with it. Still indecisive and hoping he wasn't making an irrevocable mistake, he reached around and took Glenn's cock in his hand. Glenn –already half-erect – hardened fully at a disconcertingly rapid rate the moment Daryl's sweaty fist closed around his prick, delivering several clumsy strokes. He kept his hands braced against the wall, but Daryl didn't miss the tremor in his arms or the infinitesimal whimper he released.

When Daryl passed his fingertips over the head they came away slightly wet. "Shit, Daryl," Glenn gasped tremulously. For a charged instant Daryl thought Glenn was going to beg him for it, for _something_. Unfortunately he lapsed back into disappointing silence. With the aim of eliciting a plea of some sort Daryl continued his ministrations; painfully slow and simple up-and-down strokes, adjusting to the strange familiarity of jacking off a dick that wasn't his own.

Slowly he increased the speed, listening closely for any sound of dissent. None were forthcoming, only soft, slick sounds and low gasps of appreciation. The head of Daryl's cock nudged maddeningly against the crease of Glenn's ass. Finally, unable to take any more, he tucked his dick firmly between that tight cleft and thrust upwards, aided (disgustingly) by a mixture of sweat and his own pre-cum. Together they found an awkward, rocking rhythm.

They were both breathing raggedly, small bitten-off moans that didn't travel far from their own confined bubble of space. The position didn't offer much friction and Daryl bit his lower lip, grinding harder. He gripped Glenn's hip tighter with his free hand, scrabbling for purchase on slick skin, blunt nails digging in. He pulled him back slightly until Glenn got the hint, pushing backward against Daryl's dick then rocking forward into his fist. Picking up speed Daryl's balls slapped obscenely against Glenn's bottom and sweat ran in unpleasant rivulets down their spines. Daryl's right arm began jerking wildly, muscles locking as his fist flew over Glenn's dick, trying to milk an orgasm from him and desperately chasing his own; they couldn't be caught like this.

Then Glenn started making these choked off noises that sounded perilously close to sobs. Daryl leaned his forehead on Glenn's shoulder and placed a kiss there mechanically to quiet him, focused more on his own impending release.

He licked a stripe along the shell of Glenn's ear as he squeezed his cock tightly just under the head, massaging upwards. Glenn came with a hoarse whine, cock throbbing in the tight funnel of Daryl's fist, back arching wildly and body tautening so that Daryl had to cease his own movements. Glenn came in spurts onto the wall and Daryl's hand, semen dripping between Daryl's fingers, warm and viscous. Daryl grimaced and stroked him through it, not ceasing his movements until Glenn shoved his hand away with an unintelligible complaint, body almost entirely lax now.

"Hold still," Daryl commanded huskily, resuming his harsh grip on Glenn's hips. Those were the first real words spoken since they'd begun, and they were startling; causing everything to seem significantly more real.

In a haze of need to just finish it, Daryl resumed his thrusts. He looked down, watching the glans of his cock peeking in and out between Glenn's cheeks with each frenetic grind; red and leaking. He jerked his head irritably to flip his sweaty bangs out of his eyes, trying to stifle his groans as he drew closer. His stomach fluttered and clenched, balls drawing close to his body.

He came with a short frustrated grunt, splattering come messily on Glenn's lower back in a completely unsatisfying orgasm, grinding until it was too much. A bead of come had landed in one of the small muscles on Glenn's lower back. Daryl tucked his thumb into it and swiped it mindlessly across his skin. Glenn shivered at the gesture and pressed his forehead to the brick, breathing leveling out.

They stood there quietly for a couple minutes, catching their breaths and coming to individual, private terms with the situation. Eventually, Daryl released him, leaving Glenn's hips with deep red colorations that hopefully wouldn't bruise. Glenn pushed off from the wall but didn't turn around to face Daryl as he pulled his briefs and pants back up.

"Let me guess," Daryl said wryly into the silence as he tucked his softening cock securely back into his own jeans and brushed his sweaty hair back behind his ears, "we can't do this anymore." It felt like he'd swallowed a fucking cinder block.

"That's right," Glenn answered tiredly, turning around and spearing his damp fall of hair away from his face savagely. He looked worn, sated and guiltier than sin.

Daryl snorted in disbelief, quietly enough so Glenn didn't hear. Not wanting to hear a shameful lecture or pointless platitudes about honesty, he picked up his fallen crossbow and slung the strap over his shoulder. Without another word he turned and walked over to cell block C, leaving Glenn standing there forlornly. Merle would be getting restless wanting to know where the fuck he was.


End file.
